


Allegiance

by lilyseyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyseyes/pseuds/lilyseyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry needs help finding the Horcruxes, and an old nemisis is the only one who can assist - can he learn to trust Snape?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allegiance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the **Snape/Potter Daft Day Smut Swap!**  
>  **Beta:** irisgirl12000 and rakina

* * *

Harry sat in a dark corner of a shady Edinburgh pub, fighting the urge to glance nervously over his shoulder, glad that it being Friday night meant no classes in the morning. The Muggle make-up Hermione had used to cover his scar itched, but he dared not scratch it – it smeared too easily. With a sigh, Harry sipped at the drink in his hand, grimacing at the harshness that burned his throat. His eyes scanned the room again, noting the same smattering of people who had been there when he arrived, almost all of them men who occupied the small tables talking quietly. Another pair of men swayed slowly on the miniscule dance floor, more interested in snogging than dancing. Shifting on the hard seat, Harry tore his eyes away, trying to convince himself that he did not like what he saw.

A movement behind him had Harry on alert and reminded him he was on a mission. Why Snape would choose a gay bar for their meeting, Harry could only guess, but he was intrigued that this information could only be exchanged face to face. It would be the first time he had seen the older man since the fateful night at Hogwarts when Albus Dumbledore had died. The very thought of the powerful wizard brought a familiar ache to Harry’s chest, even five months later, but he shook it off. He had been so full of anger then, as well as the determination to finish what the Headmaster started, and then to hunt down the man who killed him. It had been Snape’s betrayal of the one man who steadfastly trusted and supported him, that had eaten away at Harry as they laid Dumbledore to rest in the white tomb near the lake. The act had been unforgivable in Harry’s mind. 

The Pensieve that had been waiting for him on the rickety desk in Dudley’s second bedroom had been unexpected; Fawkes sitting beside it had been a shock. With a soft trill, the phoenix had nudged him towards the shimmering surface. Harry had known that Dumbledore had been cursed, and it had concerned him for months, but the Headmaster had always shrugged off his concerns. He had been astonished nevertheless to learn that Albus Dumbledore had come up with a way to orchestrate his own death to the best possible advantage. Intellectually, he understood the reasons, and even understood the purpose behind it, but emotionally it had been a blow. Still devastated at the loss of the older wizard, Harry was saddened that Dumbledore had not taken him into his confidence and prepared him for the horrific scene he had been forced to witness. 

His sympathetic reaction to the horror and anguish that Severus Snape had expressed in the Headmaster's memories had taken Harry by surprise. The depth of trust and affection between the two men had been apparent, making Harry feel like an intruder. The most surprising of the memories had been the several conversations the two had engaged in which Harry had been the topic.

_‘I realize Potter has the raw power to accomplish this, Albus, but he will never cooperate with me - you know how he hates me.’ Snape paced the Headmaster’s bedroom._

_‘And who is it that has cultivated that feeling, Severus? You have gone out of your way to ridicule and belittle him. You, of all people, know he is nothing like James.’_

_The Potions master had stopped next to the bed where the elderly wizard lay. “What should I do, Albus? Pull him aside and tell him that despite the bastard his father was to me, his mother was my friend and I promised her I would watch over him? What happens when he discovers that I am the reason his parents were forced to go into hiding in the first place! And now you want me to vow to end your life when the time comes?’_

_‘My time grows near, my dear boy, and you are the only one I trust to do this. It will ensure your place in Voldemort’s inner circle, and that will allow you to help Harry find the other Horcruxes.’_

A soft rustling behind him pulled Harry from his thoughts, and he tensed as he felt the heat of a dark gaze on his neck. 

Snape had contacted him a week after he had arrived in Surrey. A terse missive delivered by a postal owl advised of an impending attack on Diagon Alley, containing a reference to the failed Occlumency lessons that provided the source's identity Harry. It had been the first of a number of cryptic messages over the summer, and they had been instrumental in leading Harry, Hermione, and Ron to two of the Horcruxes. Both the Slytherin locket and the Hufflepuff cup resided with the ring in the Headmistress’ office at Hogwarts. With the diary Harry had destroyed in his second year, it left just two outstanding Horcruxes and Voldemort himself to kill.

“Evans.”

The low voice was the same, yet different, silky, sensual even. Perhaps it was just the absence of loathing that made it seem more welcoming. Harry straightened his shoulders but made no effort to stand, watching as a shadow detached itself from the wall.

“Prince,” he answered evenly, noting the Muggle attire that enhanced the man’s thinness. The hair scraped back from his face accented the angular features and hooked nose.

Snape lowered himself into the chair opposite, and Harry met wary eyes as they searched his face. A flash of hatred flared in him, but Harry kept his face neutral, thankful for the summer's Occlumency lessons, which had allowing him to gain some proficiency at the skill. The dark eyes studied him intently before narrowing in concentration, and he was not surprised to feel the brush of magic as he pushed a second glass of scotch across the table. 

“You have finally learned.” There was a touch of surprise in the sardonic words, spoken before the former professor took a cautious sip of his drink.

Harry nodded, tearing his eyes away from the gaunt features to scan the room. He, Hermione, and Ron had been taking private lessons from the Aurors squad assigned to guard Hogwarts, as well as Defense lessons from various members of the Order. One day a week, Harry Flooed to Grimmauld Place, where he learned spells and hexes that bordered on Dark in an effort to prepare for the inevitable battle.

“Who knows you are here?” 

“Only those I trusted with the other information,” he answered sharply, daring Snape to object.

It had been Dumbledore’s request that Harry turn the Pensieve over to Professor McGonagall in her capacity as the new head of the Order of the Phoenix. Only the five of them knew of the search for the Horcruxes and of Snape’s true allegiance. McGonagall had become Secret Keeper for Grimmauld Place and unofficial guardian of the Golden Trio, as well as Severus Snape whether he acknowledged it or not. The teenagers had acquiesced to the witch’s demand that they return for their seventh year of schooling, and McGonagall had used that to her advantage with the Hogwart’s governors in her bid to keep the school open. Even Rufus Scrimgeour had not been able to persuade them to keep Hogwarts closed when the Boy Who Lived was returning.

The dark eyes narrowed and the thin lips tightened at Harry’s tone, but Snape did not challenge the statement. Casually, he scanned the room, his hand reaching over to lie on top of Harry’s sleeve in a gesture that looked intimate to anyone watching.

“The school is vulnerable.” His fingers caressed Harry’s arm as his eyes swept over the dance floor. “You must revisit your adventure from your second year.”

Very conscious of the fingers stroking his sleeve, Harry lifted his glass with the other hand, welcoming the burn as he deciphered the message. Hogwarts was vulnerable, and it had something to do with the Chamber of Secrets. Nodding his understanding, he remained silent, knowing Snape would finish when he was ready. A barrage of useless questions would not do him any good; it would just irritate the man. His former teacher watched him over the rim of his glass, his intense eyes assessing Harry as they sat silently, the music from the opposite side of the room ebbing and swelling with a pounding beat. Harry silently cast a privacy bubble around them to hear above the music. 

“It seems that you are teachable after all, Evans,” Snape sneered softly as he leaned toward Harry, his fingers tightening fractionally. “You must reinforce the wards around the castle as well as the Chamber, as there seems to be a vulnerable point. I cannot be more specific than that.”

The dark man withdrew his hand, and threw back the last of the scotch as he moved the chair back from the table. Harry canceled the spell with a wave of his hand, frowning as he contemplated the news he had just received. A commotion at the door had Harry on his feet, and the unmistakable voice of Mad-Eye Moody could be heard over the bass.

“I know I saw him duck in here, Dawlish!”

Snape was on his feet immediately, wand in hand, and Harry did the first thing that came to his mind. With two steps, he pinned the taller man against the wall and yanked his head down until their lips met like those of a number of other couples in the pub. The thin figure stiffened, and Snape's wand remained wedged between them, the tip poking into Harry’s ribs, but the other hand cupped the back of his head as the thin lips softened. A shiver of awareness unlike anything he had ever felt flashed through Harry like an electrical charge; their bodies aligned and his world titled on its axis. A warm tongue parted his lips and delved hesitantly inside as Moody and his companion jostled by them on their trip through the small bar and out the back door.

Snape pulled back, surprise apparent in the onyx eyes before they were shuttered. “I was wrong; you are capable of independent thought.”

With that, Severus Snape slid back into the shadows, moving toward the entrance, leaving Harry staring after him. Raising his hand to his still-tingling lips, Harry copied the older man, using the shadows to make his way out the door and across the street. Watching carefully for any sign that he was being followed, Harry made his way down the dark side street, his heartbeat slowly returning to its normal cadence. Standing in the recessed doorway of a Muggle bakery, he Disapparated to the gates of Hogwarts. 

Retrieving his invisibility cloak from his jacket pocket, Harry slipped underneath it before he silently unlocked the gates and moved between the winged boars. Re-securing the wards, Harry continued up to the castle, his mind racing over the information Snape had given him. Given Dumbledore’s suspicions of the young man during his days as a student, Harry was not surprised that the young Tom Riddle would have found a way to gain access to the Chamber of Secrets from the outside. If Riddle had created the first Horcrux after murdering his Muggle father and grandparents at sixteen, he would have had time to create another Horcrux and leave it hidden in Slytherin’s underground chamber. It did not bode well for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry if Lord Voldemort had a way to gain access though the Chamber.

Making his way to the Headmistress’ office, Harry quickly gave her his report and arranged to escort the group into the Chamber the next day. Silently, he entered the suite of rooms he shared with Ron and Hermione, assigned to them on his and Hermione’s appointment as Head Boy and Head Girl. The door to the other bedroom was closed. Harry thankfully slipped into his own, shutting the door behind him with a sigh, not at all ready to face the witch, who could read him like an open book. His actions in the bar were still at the forefront of his mind, and he relived the entire incident from start to finish. Could it have really been less than twenty minutes ago that he had sat across the table from Severus Snape?

The small shower in his bathroom, with its endless supply of hot water, was a luxury. Harry indulged himself, stepping underneath the pulsing stream. His cock was still half-hard with the memory of pinning Snape against the wall, and it took only a few strokes with his soapy hand to bring it fully erect. The feel of those thin lips under his and the jolt of arousal that had flashed through him returned with the memory, and Harry reached down to cup his balls, rolling them between his fingers. Harry could not believe he was wanking to the mental image of Severus Snape, but the mental picture of what that man might do with that sharp-edged tongue pushed Harry over the edge, and he groaned his release.

As he crawled into bed, Harry resolved to firmly bury the memory of snogging his former professor in to the depths of his mind. His problem was that he had not been close to anyone since he had split from Ginny last June, and definitely did not see any romance in his future until he managed to defeat Voldemort. He had begun to learn more about the sexual exploits of witches and wizards, however, after he left Privet Drive to search for the elusive Horcruxes. Previously limited exposure had sheltered him from the natural bisexual aspects of most magical beings, and Harry had been delighted to find the vague dreams of the handsome, dark-haired sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle were normal. As soon as he discovered that was all right, Harry found more and more of his dreams had centered on other males in leading roles.

~ * ~

Severus Snape slid silently into the dimly lit sitting room of the house he owned in Spinner’s End. A short man with a pointed nose jumped back from the small, grimy window in the far corner of the room.

“S—severus!” the wizard squeaked out. “Where have you been?”

A sneer twisted his lips as Severus advanced on the rodent. “You were sent here by the Dark Lord to assist me, Wormtail, and to play child-minder to Draco, not to concern yourself with my whereabouts.”

The pudgy man drew himself up to his full height, the silver hand flashing in the low torchlight. “The Dark Lord—” he began imperiously, only to have Severus cut him off.

“I do not believe that the Dark Lord would take kindly to your spying on me!” he bit out, using his height to lean intimidating close to his old school nemesis. He let Pettigrew smell the liquor on his breath. “I have been out seeking more amenable company!”

Peter Pettigrew recoiled, his watery eyes widening at the implication. Severus had to smirk. The rat seemed to be uncomfortable at the very thought of sex, especially gay sex.

“I… I don’t swing that way, Snape!” 

The waste of flesh simpered as he scampered backwards towards the door leading to the stairs, seemingly protecting his arse. The sneer deepened as Severus watched the rat squirm, unwilling it to turn his back on him.

“Really?” he said in disgust, “You seemed to swing that way when you were chasing James Potter’s arse our seventh year at Hogwarts. You were always jealous of Evans, and she hated you! Or was it Black you were letting fuck you raw, Pettigrew?” 

“No!” Sweat beaded on the Animagus’ forehead. “Sirius was… I only let… Draco Malfoy went out, too!”

His taunting was immediately forgotten as Severus was across the room, his hand fisted in the front of Wormtail’s robes. “You let him out of your sight, you whinging piece of filth? The Dark Lord will not thank you for your failure, Wormtail!” 

Throwing the rat away from him, Severus swept past and moved up the stairs to his bedroom. The Malfoy scion had been a pestilence since he accepted that Vow Narcissa had maneuvered him into the summer before last. It had angered the Dark Lord at the time, as well as put Severus in the position of being executioner to the one man who had truly believed in him. He entered his suite of rooms, pressing his back against the door that automatically set the wards. The memory of that night at the top of the Astronomy Tower was still a raw ache in his chest that Severus believed would never go away. 

Pushing away from the door, he moved through the room, absently lighting a fire to chase the chill he could feel seeping into his very bones. His personal rooms were more luxurious than the rest of the house, furnished in light colors designed to banish the dark from his soul. The sitting room, with its large windows that faced the rear of the house, led into his bedroom and bath, and Severus stripped out of the Muggle trousers and jumper. He set his wand down on the side table and summoned his dressing gown. Slipping his arms into the sleeves as he poured firewhisky into a crystal goblet, Severus slumped into a worn leather armchair in front of the blazing fire.

Potter had been a surprise. The quiet, confident way he had handled their conversation and the patience despite Severus’ attempt to bait him were new. It seemed that Albus was right about the boy, as usual, and the Headmaster’s death had brought a new level of maturity to the _Chosen One_ , something Severus had been skeptical about. That, and the fact that Harry Potter seemed to have accepted his role in the elderly wizard’s death, somehow comforted Severus. What astounded him was the teenager’s actions when he had been at risk from the Aurors. It was not even that Potter had been intelligent enough to think of kissing him; no, it was the fact that he had become as aroused as Severus had from just that kiss, those verdant eyes filled with desire. 

The former head of Slytherin House let his head fall back against the back of the chair. His hand trailed down over his chest as he thought of the jolt of awareness that had accompanied the pressure from those warm lips. His cock twitched appreciatively as Severus closed his eyes and relived the brief encounter. With a mind of its own, his hand slid underneath the waistband of his boxers, skimming up and down over the firming erection. He focused on a mental image of the young man, his golden skin glowing in the light of the fire, kneeling between Severus’ pale thighs, those full lips wrapped around his cock as Severus buried his long fingers in that messy hair. His hand tugged and squeezed as he imagined what it would feel like to slowly fuck that hot, wet mouth, and Severus groaned as he came.

~ * ~

It was almost a month before Harry found himself once again sipping scotch in the dark corner of a pub, this one a luxuriously appointed "men’s club" in London. Harry thought it ironic the older man would have chosen Christmas Eve to meet, but he had to admit there were few others in the small, lavishly decorated upstairs bar, and the bartenders made themselves scarce until you signaled them. A pair of young men in one corner was snogging with the sloppy enthusiasm of a new relationship, hands everywhere, and Harry watched them, fascinated. His cock twitched appreciatively, and his gaze was riveted to the questing hands that disappeared underneath the table.

Despite his focus, Harry knew instantly when Severus Snape entered the room, an electrical crackle that only he felt running through the air. Without ever lifting his eyes from the couple, Harry tracked the older man’s progress as he skirted around the outer edge of the room to come up behind him.

“Buck up, Evans, you are drooling,” the dark voice whispered in his ear.

Harry smiled at the wizard who slid into the chair beside him. “Just living vicariously, Mr. Prince. There is not much action in my little corner of the world. _Muffliato_.”

The dark eyes flared a bit at the murmured spell, but continued to study his face. “Has fame finally lost its allure?”

Harry sighed, glancing across the room as the two young men stood to leave. “You're talking to a boy raised in a cupboard, only to be thrust into unwanted fame for an event he did not even remember. I can’t say there was ever any allure.”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a moment, before Harry said quietly, “The Chamber wards were still mostly Slytherin’s own, McGonagall thinks, and I was able to use Parseltongue to strengthen them. We believe we may have come across one of the items that we’ve been searching for, but it is surrounded by a potion.”

Severus turned to look at the teenager, recognizing the tightness in his voice as sorrow instead of anger, and waited.

“It is the same glowing emerald potion that I forced the Head– ” Harry’s voice broke, but he forced himself to continue “—that surrounded the one we found in the cave. I was hoping you could tell us what it is, as I don’t fancy drinking it myself.”

His own chest tightened, as much from the pain in Potter’s voice as from the newly revealed information about that night. Severus had been left behind to watch Draco Malfoy; both he and Albus had known he was to make his move near the Summer Solstice, and the Headmaster had not wanted to leave the castle undefended. It took all his strength to push aside his curiosity and ask the questions that needed to be asked. 

“I will need a sample.”

Harry shook his head, turning so the former professor could see his eyes in the dim light. “Can’t, you’ll have to come see it.”

Severus could see the truth in the emerald eyes, and apprehension flared at the thought of returning to Hogwarts. “The Hog's Head at midnight in a week.”

The young man nodded, his eyes sweeping the room as he set his empty glass down on the table, and stood to leave. Knocking back the last of his own scotch, Severus stood as well, knowing Harry would have to press past him in order to get out. Those intense eyes bored into his as Harry stepped closer and Severus could see hesitation and fear mixed with desire in them. The Boy Who Lived feared rejection. A predatory smile teased his lips as Severus slid an arm slowly around Harry’s waist and pulled him closer.

“Shall we see whether last month was an anomaly or something that bears repeating?” 

Lowering his head slowly, giving him ample time to pull away, Severus pressed his lips against the soft, full ones that had haunted him for the past month. That jolt of awareness hit him again, as he chastely rubbed their lips together. When a silent moan escaped Harry, Severus took advantage of the parted lips to plunder the sweetness inside. He pulled their bodies flush; his other hand wove fingers into the tousled hair at the back of Harry’s head. Arms encircled his shoulders, fingers sliding to card through the hair secured at the nape of his neck. 

They were both breathing hard when Severus pulled back, his body rock hard and screaming for release. He cupped the pink-tinged cheek in one hand and ran the pad of his thumb across the kiss-swollen lips. The tip of Harry’s tongue snaked out and lapped at the digit, and Severus almost embarrassed himself as he had not since he was a teenager.

“Until next week, Mr. Prince,” the teenager murmured, before ducking under Severus’ arm and disappearing into the night. 

Harry managed to make it back to his room at Hogwarts before shedding his clothing in an almost desperate manner. His erection had not abated at all , and Harry slid onto his bed, stopping only to snag the jar of lubricant he had brewed himself. Propping himself up against the pillows, he slicked up his hands, letting both slide down his body. In the past four weeks, Harry had learned several things about himself with the help of a book Fred Weasley had discreetly given him, along with his own questing fingers; he put that new knowledge to work. Taking himself in a firm grip, Harry slid one hand slowly up and down the hard shaft, while the other hand gently rolled his balls. The mental image of a naked, well-endowed Severus Snape doing wicked things to him planted firmly in his mind, Harry moved the one hand lower. Sliding a slick finger inside himself, Harry rotated it carefully, smearing the lube around. He stroked his cock faster as he slid in a second finger, pushing his fingers in and out until he found the small, sensitive nub of tissue that sent a jolt of pleasure through him. Fisting his hand faster, Harry fucked himself with his fingers, envisioning the former Potions master slamming into him, and orgasm overcame him.

~ * ~

The Hog's Head was packed for New Year's Eve, and Harry wondered at the wisdom of meeting Snape here. A variety of shady characters milled about in various stages of inebriation, and Harry watched them silently from the relative safety of a dark corner. A wizard, two witches, and what he thought was a hag had propositioned him as he made his way through the crowd. The place was loud, the babble of voices at a fevered pitch as the midnight hour approached, and it was fascinating to watch the mating games that were being played out among the partiers. 

A tickle of awareness ran through him, letting Harry know that Severus Snape had entered the room. It was almost annoying to be so in tune with the older wizard that he could feel his presence, and Harry was not surprised when someone pressed against him from behind, the chill of the outside still clinging to him. Fighting the urge to lean back into the taller man, Harry allowed the arm to slide around his waist. He felt rather than heard the Muffling Charm that was cast around them.

“Interesting crowd tonight, Mr. Evans, but I do not see why they would drive you to hiding in corners.”

“You didn’t see that hag who seemed determined to crawl into my pants earlier, Mr. Prince,” he muttered in a low voice. “Besides, I didn’t want anyone to recognize me.”

“With that cap covering half your head, and no glasses, I almost didn’t know you.”

“Muggle contacts, bloody brilliant invention, those,” Harry told him as he moved to turn around, only to be held fast by Snape.

“No, just back up along this wall, there is a hidden door behind us.” 

Stepping out into the crisp night air, Harry waited in the darkness of the moonless night as Snape slipped up beside him. Turning to face Snape, he wrapped his arms around the older wizard’s waist and pressed against him.

“Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation, Snape nodded. After he slid an arm around Harry’s shoulders, Harry concentrated on their destination and Disapparated. With barely a _pop_ , they were in the basement of Honeydukes Sweetshop, and Harry silently waved his wand before leaning down to pull up the trapdoor. The tingle of magic told him the wards he had placed on the entrance to the tunnel were still strong, and Harry smiled as he led them down into the blackness. Carefully settling the door back into the dirt and re-securing it, Harry lit the tip of his wand and started towards Hogwarts.

“Your wards?” Snape asked him quietly, and Harry had to smile into the darkness.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall wanted to make sure all the wards were reinforced after… the Headmaster died, so that there was no chance they would weaken. I actually found that I enjoyed the weaving of my magic into the existing wards.” Harry was proud of what he had been able to do, and that his magic was strong enough to bind all the different strands of magic together.

“The spell work is exceptional,” the older man told him in the same quiet tone. “Perhaps I was a bit hasty when I said you were a mediocre wizard, Mr. Potter.”

“I am sure that worse has been said about me, Professor,” Harry said as he picked up his pace, not even noticing that he had used the honorific. 

Severus Snape almost missed a step, but quickly recovered. He had never expected to hear any title of respect from any of his former students, especially this one. A sudden tightness in his throat had him swallowing repeatedly for several minutes as he continued to follow Harry. The wards they had passed through had been incredibly strong, and Severus dredged up a memory of a conversation with Albus at the end of the boy’s third year. The Headmaster had suggested that the boy would be even more powerful than he was already when he told Severus about the Patronus Harry had conjured, but Severus had been too wrapped up in his own bitter disappointment over Black’s escape at the time to listen to anything. 

The teenager came to a stop. “Here,” he said, pulling a shimmering cloak from his pocket and handing it to Severus, “I would not want Filch asking awkward questions.”

They immerged from the tunnel in the third floor corridor, coming up through the statue of the humpback witch. Severus stood for a moment, pretending to check the invisibility cloak as he forced down the emotion that flooded through him at being back within the castle walls. In silence, he followed the young man down to the out-of-order girls’ bathroom on the second floor, the same bathroom where Draco Malfoy and Potter had had their altercation the year before. Once inside, with the door closed and warded, Severus removed the cloak and handed it back. Questions arose in his mind, but he pushed them aside as Harry began to speak in hisses. The sound of the sibilant language slid along his spine like teasing fingers, and Severus felt a twitch of appreciation in his nether regions. He had forgotten the Gryffindor was a Parselmouth.

Anything he might have said was forgotten as the sinks slowly slid out of the way to reveal another hidden passageway, and the former Potions master felt his jaw drop. Somehow, this young man had figured out, at age twelve, what no one except Tom Riddle had been able to do in the millennium before him: the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. 

“Watch out, this is actually a giant slide. It takes us down under the lake, I believe.” Harry motioned him to go first.

Even with that warning, Severus was not prepared for the sudden drop or the length of time they slid down the slimy, cold stone. The pipe finally leveled out, but they were still sliding at a fast pace, and Severus hastily cast a wandless cushioning charm as they both flew out of the pipe on to a dirty floor. Even prepared for the abrupt end, Severus hit harder that he expected, and it knocked the breath out of him. Harry ended up landing sprawled on top of him, further restricting his breathing. Pressed against him intimately, a hard thigh pushed against an appreciative cock, and Severus’ hands landed on the taut arse. More seductive was the wash of powerful magic that he could feel emanating from the young man, and his hands tightened unconsciously to hold Harry hard against him. He was not sure which of them moaned.

Harry braced his hands on the firm chest beneath him, struggling to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as they yearned to stroke the warmth he could feel under the layers of cloth. Lying so that he was straddling one thigh, his own pressed against a hardening erection, just as his own twitched. It was all Harry could do not to rock against his former professor, especially when those large hands moved to hold him in place. A moan sounded under him, one of pleasure rather than pain, and Harry forgot all his good intentions. Burying his face in the warmth of the slender neck, Harry rocked his hips experimentally, and the sensation made his toes curl. 

A deeper groan brought his mind back to reality, and Harry remembered they were lying on a cold, dirty floor that was littered with small animal bones. Drawing in a breath of the scent he had come to recognize as pure Snape, Harry carefully clambered to his feet. A silent " _Lumos_ " had both his and Snape’s wand tips lighting, and he leaned over to extend a hand to the older man. The dark eyes glanced from him to his own wand tip and back again, interest conveyed by an arched eyebrow. Harry grinned and reached around him to brush the dirt off Snape’s backside. 

A gentle push set Harry back to their mission, and he led the way over the pile of rubble caused by Lockhart’s wayward spell five years before. The absolute darkness of the twisting tunnel had taken Harry by surprise the first time he returned to the Chamber, as he did not remember it being that way as he rushed headlong into the unknown all those years ago. The door of the Chamber of Secrets finally came into view, and he stepped forward to open it. With a glance at the ornately carved snakes, Harry turned towards Snape as he hissed his request. The older man seemed to shiver as the Parseltongue came out, and Harry stared. He continued to speak, thanking the door for opening and promising to close it gently, his eyes on Severus Snape. A look of pleasure passed over the angular features, and Harry could not help himself — he dropped his eyes to the man’s groin. The bulge in the trousers was evident, and Harry grinned. His speaking Parseltongue turned on the perverted old sod.

Filing that information away, Harry led the way into the Chamber, skirted the surprisingly intact carcass of the basilisk, and stood at the foot of the giant statue of Salazar Slytherin. He waited patiently while Severus was stopped in his tracks by the sight of the giant serpent, circling around the entire body once before coming to stand beside Harry. The onyx eyes glimmered with something like admiration, but the man remained silent, taking in the site of Salazar Slytherin’s monument. Lifting his wand, Harry again spoke in Parseltongue, demanding the secret room reveal itself. The bottom half of the immense set of stone robes rumbled open, and a small room became visible as the torches around it walls flared to life.

He stepped back so that Severus could move forward, knowing that he would see a standard student cauldron sitting on a low table. The cauldron was half-filled with the same emerald green potion that he had forced Albus Dumbledore to drink in the cave last June. Harry took another step back, the remembered horror and guilt of that night threatening to overwhelm him. Several muttered incantations floated over to him, but Harry paid little attention to them, suddenly feeling exhausted at the continued violence and loss of this war. Voldemort’s minions reveled in the atrocities they committed among the Muggle population, as well as the targeted attacks on Muggle-born and half-blood families. Resigned though he was to the prophecy that had governed his life since before his birth and guided his actions since the end of his fifth year, there were times that Harry wished he could just Apparate to wherever the bastard was and get it over with. 

A warm hand on his shoulder startled him, and Harry raised his head to meet the dark eyes, mentally giving himself a shake. Weariness clung to him like a wet cloak.

“Harry?”

The sound of that voice using his given name captured his undivided attention. “Yes?”

“I believe I know how we can accomplish this, but it will entail both of us casting spells simultaneously,” the older man told him. “Might I ask what you used to destroy the Horcrux in the diary?”

“I used the fang from the basilisk that I pulled out of my arm,” Harry told him quietly. 

“I believe the other one is still intact, so we will need to harvest that as well,” Severus told him, wand out as he moved toward the carcass.

The next hour was spent preparing for the destruction of what Harry believed was a Horcrux. Two pairs of gloves were transfigured from bits of basilisk skin, and Harry watched as Severus used a pair to carefully harvest the other fang and its intact venom sack. Setting that to one side, Harry joined the older man in front of the statue, where they determined which spells they would use to access whatever object lay beneath the emerald potion. The older man believed that Harry’s delivery of the incantations in Parseltongue would be the deciding factor. Severus went on to explain that the Dark Lord was immensely proud of the unique ability he had inherited from Salazar Slytherin, and he believed the spells cast while Tom Riddle was still in school would have utilized this ability.

Finally, everything was ready, and the two wizards stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the alcove. Harry took a deep breath, and keeping one of the pillars of entwined serpents in his field of vision, hissed out the command for the room to lower the spells that prevented his entry into the room. His fingers tickled at the flow of power running through them using the serpent language, surprising Harry into the realization that he had never cast a spell in Parseltongue. The protective field that shimmered around the cauldron flared bright before disappearing, and Harry moved closer. As he had done that night in the cave with Dumbledore, Harry tried to reach into the cauldron, but a barrier stopped his progress.

“Try banishing the potion,” Severus suggested.

Harry tried, pouring his magic into the spell, but the liquid merely rippled. After long minutes of trying various spells to no avail, Harry gave in to his frustration and incanted a Levitation Charm in Parseltongue. To his amazement, the liquid moved sluggishly, and Harry poured more power into the charm before it slowly rose. A glimmer of something metallic at the bottom of the cauldron almost broke Harry’s focus. Concentrating his magic, Harry reached to grab Severus’ arm, but the older wizard had already stepped forward.

“ _Accio Horcrux!_ ”

Severus had a gloved hand outstretched to catch the Horcrux, but nothing happened. Unable to take his eyes off the hovering potion, Harry heard Severus try several more times before realizing he was going to have to do it.

“Get ready!” Harry snapped, his wand hand beginning to tremble with the exertion.

He would have to juggle the potion and the Horcrux, Harry decided, and began to levitate the liquid higher with a steady movement of his wand tip toward the ceiling. The higher it rose, the harder the potion seemed to fight to get back into the cauldron, and Harry flicked his wand upwards sharply. Extending his left hand, he hissed a Summoning Charm in Parseltongue. The silver glimmer jumped just before the emerald potion crashed back into the cauldron.

For a moment, Harry lost sight of the object, but thenthere was a gleaming metal object flying toward them. Severus stepped in front of him and deftly caught it, immediately sinking to the stone floor. Stumbling, Harry joined him, grabbing his discarded gloves, as Severus levitated what looked like a Head Boy’s badge to the floor. Carefully, Harry grasped the basilisk fang in both hands, and as Severus moved back, stabbed the tip into the center of the metal. Surprisingly, the fang bit into the metal, and a small amount of dark green slime oozed out of the hole. Severus muttered an incantation as he poured a shimmering silver potion over it, and the disgusting slime flared white before disappearing.

Harry looked up to meet the dark eyes, weariness seeping into every muscle. “Is it gone?” 

“Yes, another Horcrux destroyed. Well done, Potter,” Severus told him in a soft voice, his eyes lingering on the lines of tension etched in the too-young face.

Impulsively, Severus moved the mangled badge to one side and transfigured one of the gloves into a soft pallet of cushions and another into a warm blanket. Without a word, he drew the young man onto the makeshift bed and wrapped his arms around him. Drawing the blanket up over them, Severus settled on his back with Harry’s head pillowed on his chest. Warmth flowed through him when the teenager snuggled into him in a way that bespoke of immense trust, something no one else but Albus had ever given him. 

“Thank you, Snape…” Harry’s voice trailed off as sleep took him.

Pressing a kiss into the mop of raven hair, Severus wondered when he had lost his heart to this brave, irritating child. Albus had always told him there was much more to the son of his old nemesis, if Severus could just see past the physical similarities, and as usual, the old coot had been right. In the last six months, Harry had proved himself intelligent, quick thinking, and forgiving. Albus’ death had matured him in a way that Black’s had not, allowing Harry to come into his own, a powerful young wizard ready to fight and die for those he loved, as well as the whole wizarding community.

“Happy New Year, Harry,” Severus said softly. He allowed himself the pleasure of holding the young man while he slept.

~ * ~

Over the next few months, the two continued to search for the last Horcrux, and met to exchange pertinent information. Voldemort had stepped up his attacks on Muggle-borns, and on the small vulnerable villages on the periphery of large towns. Invariably, the orphanages in these places were the Dark Lord's targets, something that appalled and sickened Harry. As the violence escalated, Harry found himself unwilling to send his friends out on missions, hoping to keep them safe by keeping them inside Hogwarts. It had worked until Hermione figured it out and subjected him to a blistering dissertation on his appalling hero complex. 

Severus Snape had found it humorous when Harry related the incident to him in a quiet undertone during their journey to the cemetery in Little Hangleton. Still searching for the illusive sixth Horcrux, they searched the area of the Riddle graves in silence. Both knew that the Vernal Equinox the following night would bring out many of the Dark creatures in Voldemort’s service, and Harry had another mission to undertake. Just what form the last Horcrux would take was a subject of constant debate between the two, with Harry insisting that the Dark Lord’s familiar, Nagini, was the likely vessel, despite Dumbledore’s skepticism. Severus seemed to favor some other type of trophy, an heirloom of some sort that signified a triumph for the man who was once Tom Marvolo Riddle, but what artifact, he did not know. 

Their search of the graveyard and the surrounding copse of trees produced the same results as their other endeavors, and Harry had to admit to being disappointed and frustrated. Standing at the edge of the woods, deep in the shadows, he turned into the long arms that had come to signify warmth, security, and love, knowing that this interlude would be short-lived; they all were. Desperation colored the kiss they shared, as both knew they were running out of time; Voldemort was becoming increasingly psychotic, his attacks increasingly violent. The lunatic was preparing for a violent assault on Hogwarts, Severus believed, despite impenetrable protective fields surrounding the school.

The pair separated reluctantly, neither knowing when they would see each other next. Harry had an Order mission the next night, and Severus had been ordered to the Dark Lord’s side for his nefarious plans. 

A cold breeze started as Severus Disapparated, and Harry shivered as he turned to survey the graveyard one last time. His life had radically changed in this very graveyard three years ago, much as it had that long ago night in Godric’s Hollow, and both instances had been orchestrated by Voldemort. It would not happen again; Harry would kill the bastard or die trying. Albus Dumbledore had told him many times that it was the choices one made that defined their life, but Harry had been denied the opportunity to make many of his own choices. After he had been an unwilling witness to the events on the Astronomy tower that night last June, Harry had decided it was the last time a choice would be taken out of his hands. 

Putting his back to the graveyard, Harry Apparated to the edge of a sleeping Hogsmeade. He moved silently in the shadows at the edge of the road as he made his way back towards the castle. Alastor Moody might have preached constant vigilance, but it had been Severus who taught him how to glide silently over any terrain and blend into the shadows. Similarly, Severus had taught him in the last few months that you could fall in love with someone you once hated with a vengeance. 

Not that the man in question knew how he felt, of course. Hermione suspected something, as she had been quick to remind him of the old adage about the line between love and hate being fine. There was no question that there was a strong sexual attraction, but Harry knew better than to assume it had any basis in emotion on the older man's part. Picking up his pace as he neared the castle, Harry sighed when the winged boars came into view. Unrequited love was just another part and parcel of being the Boy Who Lived, he guessed.

The next day was warmer that usual for mid-March in Scotland, but Harry had no time to enjoy it. He completed the assignments due the following week, observed Quidditch practice in the afternoon, and then Harry once again set out into the darkening night. A Floo ride to Grimmauld Place had his head spinning, and the raucous laughter of the Weasley twins greeted him as he stumbled into the kitchen. They had dinner ready for him, and they went over the information on the newest inventions for both their shop and the Order of the Phoenix while they ate. George handed him a vial of Instant Darkness Powder, one of the products now produced only for the Order, as well as several diversionary Wild-Fire Whiz-Bang discs that were spelled with delayed detonation so that one could be thrown away before going off. Harry added these to the deep pockets of his black jacket before heading out the door.

Fred and George walked with him until they cleared the row of Muggle houses around Grimmauld Place before they Disapparated back to Diagon Alley. Once there, Harry headed to the Leaky Cauldron and out of the wizard neighborhood. Charing Cross Station was his destination, where he made his way into the Underground station, relying on the reviewed memories of the scenes in Dumbledore’s Pensieve. Hermione believed that the house he was searching for was on Clapham Road in Stockwell, the only orphanage near the wizarding part of London. 

Exiting the tube at what he hoped was the right stop, Harry found himself on a poorly lit, grimy London street, in an area that reminded him of the neighborhood near Grimmauld Place. Carefully, Harry followed the instructions he had written down from the London map in the Hogwarts library. When he turned a corner, he found a familiar iron fence lining the sidewalk; trying to hold down his excitement, Harry followed it to the gate. Pushing it open, Harry stepped into a bare courtyard in front of the square building he remembered from the Pensieve. The building had an air of neglect about it. The steps up to the front door seemed to sag as he mounted them silently, sliding his invisibility cloak over his shoulders. A quiet _Alohomora_ opened the door, and Harry slipped silently into the foyer. The hallway appeared to have a new coat of paint, which brightened the shabby entrance, and the scent of disinfectant was strong. 

Harry crept up the stairs to the first door off the second floor landing. The bare room was much the same, with the wardrobe against one wall and a child sleeping quietly in the small bed. Moving like a shadow, Harry cast a revealing spell over the wardrobe. Nothing. Remembering his own hiding places, he began a systematic search of the floorboards for a hidden space. Severus had told him that he felt it unlikely that the final Horcrux would be here, but Harry was not willing to leave any place Tom Riddle had spent time unsearched.

The _crack_ of Apparation nearby made him jump, and Harry instantly flattened himself against the wall. More sounds indicated at least four wizards had arrived in the street in front of the orphanage. That was bad enough, but the sudden plummeting temperatures made Harry stiffen. Dementors. 

Yanking his cloak over his head, Harry stole silently back down the stairs, his chest tight with fear. Only he could manage to be caught alone in a Death Eater raid in London. The front door was blasted open as he hit the landing, and Harry flattened himself against the wall as black-robed figures filled the entry, wands held high. A flick of his wrist sent a Diversion Disc sailing to the far end of the room, where it detonated loudly in the enclosed space. Spell-light split the air, and Harry dodged the wild hexes as best as he could, stunning and biding four of the intruders before slipping out the door, into a mass of swirling Dementors. Staggering, Harry dredged up the image of Severus’ face that day months before in the Chamber of Secrets.

_"Expecto Patronum!”_

The silver stag pulsed with magical energy as it cut a path through the closest swarm of the vile creatures, and then turned for another run. Harry felt his knees give out, but was caught roughly from behind before he could fall.

“Idiot boy!” was hissed in his ear before Harry felt the pull of Apparation.

Harry was shoved against a tree, the bark biting through his clothing.

“Fuck, Potter!”

Hot, demanding lips captured his in a furious kiss, which did nothing to calm Harry’s frantically beating heart. Hands scrabbled over his body as if checking to make sure he was still whole, then cupped his arse in a tight grip. Severus lifted him until their groins aligned and ground against him, and Harry wrapped his legs around the older man.

“Insolent, infuriating, _fucking_ Gryffindor whelp!” 

The words were growled against his lips, each punctuated by hard kisses. They moved together, frotting with undignified desperation, trying to get closer. Gentling lips captured his cry of completion as Severus stiffened alongside him, and Harry slumped forward against a hard chest. The tingle of magic warned him when a cleaning charm was cast.

“Severus,” Harry breathed. The man continued to hold him tightly.

~ * ~

The usually warm spring slid into a wet summer whose endless parade of gray skies depressed even the most optimistic. That added to Harry's frustration about the final Horcrux eluding them even as the skirmishes increased. Harry sat his NEWTs before taking up residence in Grimmauld Place with Ron and Hermione. In between the futile searches, Aurors and Order members continued training them for battle dueling and Harry managed to slip away to meet Severus for training in Dark defense. The number of deaths continued to rise, and many of the members of the Order put increasing pressure on Harry to fulfill the Prophecy at any cost. Without Albus Dumbledore’s moderate voice, Harry had little authority to argue his side, and the pressure grew.

Severus continued to pass information as he could, but as Voldemort sank deeper into his delusions, he also became increasingly paranoid and violent toward his closest advisors. The danger to the older man was significant, and despite Harry's growing desire to see Severus, the time they managed to spend together was utilized to train and go over battle strategy. On the rare occasion they had extra time, the pair simply sat and discussed their history, hashing out some of the unresolved issues that simmered beneath the surface, putting old hurts to rest. Severus objected to the brutal pace Harry had set for himself to prepare for the final confrontation, even though they both knew it was the only way. Harry’s resolve never wavered; his worry over the danger Severus was in pushed him, a more personal motivation to fulfill the destiny set for him. 

Fear began to grow in Harry that something would happen to him before he could set in place the evidence that would clear Severus. The former professor’s true allegiance needed to be perfectly clear, he knew, in order for Severus to be exonerated. As summer turned into autumn, Harry worked to make sure everything was ready, ensuring the information made it to the proper authorities should he not survive his encounter with Voldemort. As a precaution, Harry left a sealed Pensieve with Dobby in addition to giving one to McGonagall, with the express instruction that it go to the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot if he was incapacitated or dead. The house-elf had burst into tears at the mere suggestion of Harry’s demise, but promised to do as Harry requested. 

When the new term started, Harry commuted between London and Hogwarts, teaching the younger students who showed the aptitude how to cast the Patronus Charm. Because Dementor attacks on both wizard and Muggle populations had been brutal since mid-summer, the Ministry of Magic launched a campaign to teach everyone the Charm, and the Headmistress had asked Harry to assist. The school remained heavily fortified, even with the Chosen One no longer there to make it a prime target for Voldemort. Harry had made sure his departure was well publicized for that very reason. 

In the end, it turned out that the elaborate plans and battle strategies where unnecessary. Harry ended up facing Voldemort in exactly same way he always had before, alone. 

On a dreary, windswept day in November, a day with no real significance, Harry Apparated to Godric’s Hollow to meet Severus for another search of the rubble for the final Horcrux. Instead, Harry arrived in the middle of a circle of Death Eaters. A battered Severus Snape knelt in the cold mud at Lord Voldemort's feet. 

Harry's head felt like it was going to split in two, his scar searing white-hot with pain.

“Hello, Tom,” he said quietly, his wand held loosely in his hand. “It seems you have caught us.”

The scarlet eyes had flared at the name Harry knew he hated, and the bastard retaliated with a hex directed at Severus, who jerked involuntarily. 

“It has finally come down to just us, Harry Potter, and a prophecy uttered by a drunken hag nineteen years ago. The idea that a slip of a boy like yourself could defeat the greatest wizard of all time is unbelievable, but your death will demolish any further resistance to my plans.” The bastard laughed as he kicked at Severus on the ground. Nagini was coiled nearby, waiting for her treat. “It is indeed a pity Snape turned out to be a traitor.”

Harry let Voldemort ramble on as the Dark Lord had the habit of doing in their previous meetings. His heart had settled into a steady rhythm from the pounding it had done upon his arrival; his hand was steady as he moved his wand in a subtle pattern. This was his destiny. Harry knew he might die when the snake-faced bastard definitely would, but he would be damned if he would let Severus be killed. Carefully reinforcing his mental shields, Harry continued the ancient spell Hermione had found to reunify the pieces of a splintered soul. They had still not found the last Horcrux, but he had no option but to assume it was the gigantic snake. Coming to the critical end of the spell, he threw up his hand and completed the wand motion.

A yanking sensation tugged at his forehead, liquid fire raced through his brain, and Harry staggered to the side. His vision grayed at the periphery while what was left of Tom Riddle’s soul screamed. A hand wrapped around his leg, and Harry could feel Severus’ magic spread through him, giving him strength. Focusing on the love he felt, Harry drew power from his core and cast a spell that incinerated the rejoined soul. As the world went black around him, he cast a shielding spell to protect Severus. His last thought was that _he_ had been the final Horcrux all along.

~ * ~

Severus Snape strode into the huge ballroom at the Ministry of Magic, his dark blue silk dress robes billowing. His eyes searched the packed crowd for one face. Ignoring the gasps of the moronic as he passed, Severus moved steadily toward the front of the room. It had been a month since the final confrontation with the Dark Lord, a month of incarceration and trial, a month since he had seen the young man whom he had feared would not live. He was ever thankful to Harry’s friends, especially Miss Granger, who came down like an avenging angel when the Aurors tried to haul him to Azkaban as he lay recovering in the infirmary at Hogwarts. The young witch had continued to play advocate when Severus was put on trial before the entire Wizengamot, producing a second Pensieve of testimony from Albus and Harry when the first was ‘lost’ by the Ministry of Magic. 

While the travesty of a trial progressed, Severus learned more of what had happened that day in Godric’s Hollow. Everyone bearing the Dark Mark had collapsed when Harry had destroyed Tom Riddle’s soul, making them easily apprehended, including some high-ranking members of the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot. The resurrected body of Lord Voldemort had been reduced to dust next to the ashes of his soul, and was disposed of unceremoniously. Harry remained unconscious for over two weeks, and Poppy Pomfrey believed that it was the young man’s own magic that had healed him, as he awoke ‘just Harry’ as she described it. After two weeks of hearings and testimony, Severus was allowed to return to Spinner’s End to await the Wizengamot’s decision. 

Just this afternoon, Severus had been informed that he was exonerated of all charges, due to receive a medal, and released from house arrest. The medal ceremony was set for that evening, and Severus had scrambled to get there. Now, as he spotted the knot of familiar faces on the dais, his sure steps faltered for the first time. Dressed in formal robes of dark green, looking pale and thin, Harry appeared to be searching the crowd. Their eyes locked and Severus stopped, for an instant wondering if it had all been an illusion, an allegiance forged in the heat of war and never meant to be continued. The beloved face was impassive, the emerald eyes unreadable, and his heart lurched painfully.

“You do realize that you are breaking his heart, Severus, with your hesitation,” Hermione Granger said softly from beside him.

His feet made the decision for him, carrying him forward until he stood face to face with the young man, his eyes taking in the pale, thin line of the famous scar. His viridescent eyes sparkling with life and promise, Harry looped his arms around Snape's neck, and unmindful of the people around them, kissed him hungrily. Someone nearby gasped, but Severus did not spare a thought for propriety as he slid an arm around Harry’s waist and threaded a hand through the soft hair to cup the back of his head. Peace permeated Severus' soul as he continued to kiss the young hero, finally understanding the term ‘coming home’. Pulling away slowly, he buried his face in the mop of hair as he struggled to get his breathing under control.

“Hermione?” 

Puffs of air tickled his throat as Harry spoke, and Severus could feel his lips twitch into an involuntary smile as the younger man snuggled closer. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Severus knew he should be appalled at his daft behavior, but somehow, it seemed like too much effort.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Will you please accept our Orders of Merlin? I believe I may be relapsing. Severus will need to take me to bed immediately.”

“I would be happy to, Harry.” Amusement colored the young woman’s quiet answer. “I am sure Severus will take good care of you.”

Indeed he would, Severus thought, as Harry snorted softly into his skin. His arms wrapped securely around his prize, Severus Apparated them both to his sitting room. 

“Bloody hell, Severus!” Harry tilted his head back, thumb tracing one of Severus’ cheekbones. “I missed you.”

“I might have experienced a moment of trepidation when I initially awoke,” Severus intoned in a bored voice. He was caught off guard as Harry yanked his head down.

“Git!” 

Harry captured his lips, devouring his mouth. Severus groaned at the flash of heat that surged through him. Walking backward, he maneuvered them through the door into the bedroom. One hand dropped between them and began to unfasten Harry’s robes, and he wrenched his mouth away to trail wet kisses along the smooth jaw. Severus knew that there were things that Harry felt he need to hear from him, words and feelings Severus was not able to vocalize, and he set about putting everything he could not express into his worship of the young man’s body.

Severus pushed the dress robe off Harry’s shoulders, fingers caressing blindly as he poured everything he felt into the kiss he was lavishing on those impertinent lips. Gloriously naked, he moved them on to the bed, draped in the softest cotton sheets, where Severus began to acquaint himself with Harry’s body. Severus traced each scar on the soft flesh with the tip of his finger, and then repeated the motion with his lips. In all the times they had met over the course of the last year, their contact, the frantic groping and frotting, had been hot, hard, and very brief. He was determined to make this night everything he had ever envisioned that making love to Harry would be.

“Bloody hell, Severus!” 

Severus stroked slim thighs, opening his mouth over Harry's straining erection. Harry arched upwards, groaning under the sensual assault. His grip on his legs tightened, pushing them apart, opening Harry to the wicked tongue. Severus slowly bobbed his head up and down several times, suckling hard for a moment on the sensitive head, and tongue flicking along the slit as he pulled away. Harry howled as sensation threatening to overwhelm him. A sharp nip to his inner thigh pulled him back from the pinnacle, and earned Severus a weak whimper of protest. 

Severus settled between Harry's thighs; he could feel Harry's trepidation, but didn't let it stop him from pressing his tongue to the virgin entrance. Pleasure was expressed in an explosion of sound when Severus' fingers stroked smooth skin, and the hot, wet tip of Severus’ tongue delved into willing flesh. He could feel how much willpower it took for Harry not to come when he slid an oiled finger into him beside the questing tongue, and he was not surprised when one of Harry's hands shot up to tug sharply at his balls, and the other tightened in Severus’ hair. Pulling back, Severus eased another finger in, stroking and stretching, as he kissed his way back along Harry’s thigh.

“Severus,” Harry's breath caught in his throat. “Please…”

Lifting Harry’s legs to hook over his shoulders, Severus gingerly slicked his erection before guiding himself to Harry’s entrance. Pressing forward, the older man pushed past the guardian muscles, pausing for a moment while Harry writhed. Severus eased himself slowly into the hot velvet, bracing his hands on the back of Harry’s thighs. Harry arched up impatiently, impaling himself on the hard cock, robbing Severus of his breath. He pulled out slightly and thrust in again, sheathing himself, his balls slapping against his lover. Harry clutched at him, his words incoherent, his hips rocking in encouragement. Severus gritted his teeth, holding on desperately to his control as he began to move; slow, short strokes gave way to long, deep ones as the tension became unbearable. He felt Harry tighten, the muscles of his channel spasming as he came explosively, and Severus pulled back before slamming in deeply, pumping his seed into the man that he had grown to love.

Shifting to the side, Severus was able to cast a cleaning charm before he slumped beside Harry’s boneless form, cradling him tightly against his chest. The younger man turned in his arms and threw a leg over Severus’ thighs as he snuggled closer.

“I love you, Severus,” Harry told him sleepily.

Severus pulled him closer. “There is no need to get maudlin,” he grumped as he pressed a kiss into the soft hair. He softly stroked the young man's back until he heard Harry's breath even out. "As I love you, my Chosen One."


End file.
